Revan: The Scepter of Malevolence
by AssasinNinja
Summary: Revan: Lord of Darkness and Scion of light, and the Scepter of Malevolence is a bold new take on Star Wars KOTOR: "A meaty fist collided with his face, crunching the cartilage in his nose and drawing a healthy amount of blood. He was soon falling under a storm of punches, he could do nothing but pretend to defend himself. He could almost feel Bastila's tears through the force-bond
1. Chapter 1

**Here's a nice little attempt at a sort of alternate telling of Knights of the Old Republic, I had tried these in one shots before and I think I'm ready to move on to the real thing. Let me know how it goes.**

**I don't own KOTOR or Star Wars.  
**

**Enjoy  
**

Revan: Lord of Darkness and Scion of light, and the Scepter of Malevolence.

Book One: Light in the Darkness

Chapter One: Brutality without Prejudice

The Ebon Hawk was mostly a cold place. Not uncomfortably so, but cold enough to keep you awake on the long ride from planet to planet. The personal quarters were all privately maintained; meaning Mission, Juhani, and Bastila could keep their room at a higher or lower temperature than Carth, Canderous, and Sparoe's room across the ship. The medical room where Jolee slept was kept at a pleasantly sterile temperature, and Zaalbar had his coat to keep him warm. The droids didn't seem to mind the temperature, as long as their joints weren't frozen or the circuitry was frying. But for the most part, the rest of the ship was kept quite a distance below room temperature.

Now the reason all that mattered right now, was because Jolee and Sparoe were playing a board game, and despite the uniform coldness of the ship, Jolee was sweating.

"I'm winning aren't I?" Sparoe asked confidently. Using the force he moved his miniature flagship to the left of Jolee's squadron. The tiny ship let loose a barrage of holographic firepower, and Jolee's squadron soon turned a bright red, signalling defeat.

"I won?" Sparoe asked hesitantly, before a warm smile took hold of his face. "I WON!"

"Quiet you young fool... no one likes a braggart." Despite his harsh tone, Jolee shared a smile with the youth. He had taught the boy well, and it had only taken to games for Sparoe to win.

"Want to play again?"

"No, No..." Jolee said, "I know when I'm beat..." Jolee creaked and groaned as he got up off the floor. "You can have the game if you want... I never liked it all that much anyway..."

Jolee walked slowly back to his room, muttering something about games being nothing but a waste of time as he went. Sparoe packed the game into a footlocker carefully, then sat back down on the cold floor. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a beautiful woman in the clothes of a dancer walk into the cockpit with a large bundle in her hand. Needless to say, Sparoe was perplexed.

He got up quickly, and made a beeline to the cockpit. Inside, he was quite surprised by what he saw.

The beautiful woman with the bundle was Bastila, and she was clearly uncomfortable with the outfit she found herself in. Her face was as red as Malak's lightsaber.

"Sparoe," She chimed in her delightfully sophisticated voice, "Um, here, these are for you."

From her bundle she pulled a large and ornate cloak. The young jedi tried it on, and it swallowed him whole.

"What the hell is this thing?" He said, while trying to adjust his hood so he could see out of it.

"They're our disguises... Mission picked them out."

"Disguises for what?" He still couldn't see.

"Well," Bastila's voice went from sophisticated to downright condescending, "While you were off playing silly mind-games, me and the others were formulating a plan!"

Sparoe said nothing for a moment, focusing on the tip of his boot from under his large hood.

"The others and I..." He said at last throwing his head up and pulling the hood off of his face.

"What?" Bastila singed.

"You said me and the others... you should've said-"

Bastila turned and left before Sparoe could finish. She marched off angrily, and he didn't quite mind watching her walk away. He mentally reminded himself to congratulate Mission on the disguises later.

* * *

A little while later, the entirety of the Ebon Hawk's crew stood in her command room, all of them befit in their disguises.

Carth was dressed like a mercenary, a fake scar and some light battle armor perfected his ensemble.

Mission was dressed like a senator, flowing white robes and almost visibly fake jewelry seemed to absorb her.

Zaalbar elected to stay in his normal attire, the same went for T3 and Hk.

As for Jolee, he was dressed like a doctor, quite ironic when his sleeping arrangements were taken into account.

Bastila of course was dressed as a dancer, her bright green clothes and very short trunks loud enough to draw anyone's attention away from her face.

Juhanni had decided to stay on the ship, and Canderous simply put on some heavy armor and a helmet.

Sparoe, was still drowning in the massive robe Mission had picked out for him, and besides homeless, he had no idea what he was supposed to look like.

His teammates had filled him in on the plan only a short while earlier, and for the most part he remembered his specific job. More or less, he was supposed to cause a distraction, while the others sneaked into the Sith base. Once inside, they would find the docking codes, and send them to him. He would bring the Hawk into the Sith hanger, and they would continue the mission from their.

Easier said than done, Manaan was a neutral and peaceful planet, it would be awfully hard to create a large enough distraction without being arrested.

"Everybody ready to go?" Carth asked kindly.

The whole crew nodded.

* * *

They all spread out throughout the courtyard, and established a presence in their own specific area. After a few hours, enough new people drifted into the courtyard to make it impossible to tell that the Hawk's crew all came in together. Sparoe felt a small vibration from his comm, and headed to the center of the corridor, where a large group of Sith was gathering.

Using the force, he had located the soldier with the shortest temper, and bumped into him. The man roared.

"S-ss-ss-ss" He choked out a fake stutter. The man grabbed him by his thick cloak's collar.

"What was that worm?"

Sparoe was hardly listening, out of the corner of his eye, he could see his teammates slink slowly into the Sith Base's entrance. With Jolee using the force to cloud the minds of any guards not watching Sparoe, they made it inside with know resistance. Only Bastila remained behind, watching the scene unfold.

"Go..." He muttered softly under his breath, hoping their force-bond would allow her to know how desperately she needed to get inside. The sith soldier dropped Sparoe carelessly, either thinking the jedi dumb or mute. As he turned, Sparoe knew for sure he would see Bastila.

"Sith trash." He said calmly, and the soldier turned back around, his face hot with violent glee.

"Now that time, I heard what you said..." The soldier whistled, and the whole group of Sith encircled the two men. Sparoe could still see Bastila watching.

A meaty fist collided with his face, crunching the cartilage in his nose and drawing a healthy amount of blood. He was soon falling under a storm of punches, he could do nothing but pretend to defend himself. He could almost feel Bastila's tears through the force-bond.

"Go!" He screamed, and for a minute the punches stopped. The soldier looked around for a minute, Bastila was gone.

"You really think I'm gonna let you walk away after what you said to me?" The man said.

Sparoe pulled the hood off his face, and through the blood and swelling, he smiled.

"What the hell are you grinning at?" The soldier asked, his fear growing.

Sparoe laughed, then his cloak fell to the ground and he disappeared. The soldiers looked around the room frantically. Sparoe's laughter echoed through the courtyard, then faded, only to be replaced by the ticking of a thermal detonator. The Sith peered down at their shiny metal doom, hiding in the folds of Sparoe's discarded cloak. Before they could blink, they were dust in the wind.

**More to come. Read and Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Revan: Lord of Darkness and Scion of light, and the Scepter of Malevolence.

Book One: Light in the Darkness

Chapter Two: Apologies and Relevations

Sparoe sat on the cold bed in the medical room, a fresh supply of kolto running through his system... His body still hurt, and it would take days for his face to look anywhere near normal again. The scar on the bridge of his nose was most likely permanent, a lasting reminder of a rough surgery performed by a medical soldier in the rebel base. At least his nose was fixed, and he could breathe freely again.

Bastila had yet to question him on his actions, yet he knew that she had seen everything from the security recordings in the Sith base. Either she agreed with his decision or was too horrified to lecture him.

They had all killed people before, but despite the predicament Sparoe was in, these men were defenseless... and he knew it. He was already walking a narrow path... and the ground was wet under his feet.

If he wasn't careful, he would slip, and the whole galaxy would fall apart beneath him.

He reached across the bed and grabbed the jacket of his orange flight suit from the nearby medical table. He had stopped wearing the robes of a jedi shortly after leaving Dantooine. He had never felt completely right in them, almost like he was wearing someone else's clothes. Wearing the unassuming clothes of a space traveler was far less incriminating anyway, no one would expect him until they saw the blade of his saber.

And by then, of course, it would be too late.

He tightened his boots and stood up, he was sick of all this rest and recuperation. They would be heading down to the Republic's underwater base in a few hours, and he needed to prepare.

The flight jacket doubled as a flak jacket, so he would need no extra armor. He could block any blaster bolts with his lightsaber, so shrapnel was really all he had to worry about. He moved drearily to the workbench in the garage. All of the crew was at the cantina, so he would have plenty of time to work on his lightsaber in peace and solitude.

Or so he thought.

"Spaore." He felt her presence just seconds before she spoke. Bastila had stayed behind to lecture him. He zipped up his jacket and turned to face her.

Her eyes were still wet. To his overwhelming shock, she embraced him.

"I'm so sorry-" She cried out.

"No-"

"If I had just gone-"

"No-no Bastila..."

She wept into his shoulder. This was the last thing he expected. He had been in rough scraps before, and a medpac always seemed to fix him right back up. Afterwards he would get a stern lecture from Bastila about being headstrong and quick-tempered, and they would continue on their mission.

But this time it had been different. This time he gotten a real beating, and Bastila had been right there the whole time, and she couldn't do a damn thing. He could easily see why she felt so bad.

"And it's my fault you killed those men." She choked out.

"What?" He held her tighter, believing her guilt to be getting the better of her.

"When I saw what they did to you," She pulled her head out from his chest and looked him in the eye, "I wanted to kill them. To kill them all."

"Bas-"

"You felt my hatred through the bond... it was me who killed them... it was me..." She broke down into a flood of tears. There was nothing Sparoe could say or do to change her mind. They both sank slowly to the floor, and he held her close to him as she cried.

"I haven't been honest with you..."

"Shh..."

"No, you have to listen to me." She said sternly. "This bond, it could be the death of us one day... we both know that. But I wouldn't care!"

He kept listening.

"Because I know that we'd still be together... and being bonded to you is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me."

His eyes widened in shock, he could hardly believe what she was telling him.

"You make even the simplest things seem beautiful and full of joy... I don't know how I was ever happy without you..."

He started to tear up.

"To die would be terrible... but to live without you would be infinitely worse! What I'm trying to say... is that-is that I-I"

She stared him straight in the eyes and into his soul.

"I love you..." She uttered like a breath. He pulled her back into his chest, and held her as tight as he could. The emotions were so powerful, that he could barely return the sentiment.

"I love you too... I love you so much." He said at last.

They sat there hugging, and a short time later footsteps echoed through the ship. Canderous Ordo, exhausted, and a little drunk, wandered into the garage.

"Sparoe." He said, spotting the young jedi working on his lightsaber, "Good to see you up and about."

"Yeah..." Sparoe smiled weakly, "Get some sleep Canderous, I'll wake you up when it's time to go."

"Good idea pal..." The mandolorian lumbered toward the sleeping quarters, "Good idea."

Bastila stood up and walked out from behind the speeder.

"You should get some rest too." Sparoe told her, wiping what remained of her tears from her eyes.

"Okay." She said and nodded. "I love you..."

She kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

"I know." He said as she left.

**More to come.**


	3. Chapter 3

Revan: Lord of Darkness and Scion of light, and the Scepter of Malevolence.

Book One: Light in the Darkness

Chapter Three: Reckless aBandon

In the dark underwater world of Manaan, there was crippling silence. The only sound you could hear was the absence of sound, as if the water surrounding the base completely muffled it from the noises of the outside world. It was so quiet, that when someone spoke, it was hard not to hear it.

"You... I recognized you! You killed Trask!"

"Your words mean nothing to me, unless you wish to beg for mercy."

"You'll pay for that, he was a good man." Sparoe snapped his lightsaber on and flourished it.

"I promise to make your death both quick, and painful." Bandon swung his double-blader in a menacing arc over his head.

"Sparoe, that's a Sith Lord. Darth Bandon is Malak's main apprentice." Bastila held her yellow lightsaber in a defensive position, "We should retreat, maybe there's some other way to defeat him, but it's too dangerous to engage in armed combat down here."

Sparoe didn't answer, but began to slowly walk backwards, away from the three dark jedi.

"Canderous?" Sparoe whispered into his comlink.

"Yeah?" The Mandolorian's hoarse voice echoed in his ear.

"Where are you guys?"

"Hang on, I'll check the map."

Sparoe swung his lightsaber from right to left, and he and Bastila continued to walk slowly backwards. The Dark Jedi arrogantly pressed onward, and Bandon began to laugh.

"Just what I'd expect from you, Bastila. Sending troops forward is fine, but whenever your own life is in danger, you run away."

Sparoe stopped walking.

"Sparoe? What's wrong?"

"You're a coward Bastila," Bandon continued, "Just like every other Jedi."

Sparoe looked behind him, and saw how close Bastila was to the door. He opened it quickly with the force, and pushed Bastila inside. He slammed it shut before she had time to realize what had happened.

"Sparoe! Sparoe, open this door!" She called from inside.

"Oh? Well maybe there's still a soul with backbone in the Jedi Order."

"You'll find I'm full of surprises." Sparoe shoved both his hands toward his enemies, sending a wave of the force that flung the two Dark Jedi far away from Bandon. They cracked their skulls on the hard glass of the tunnel, and most likely died instantly. Bandon, however, was able to hold his ground, and stood, defiantly laughing at Sparoe.

"Finally," The Sith said with glee, "A real challenge."

Still no word from Canderous.

"I only wish I could say the same about you." Sparoe smiled at Bandon, then sprinted towards him.

The Jedi closed the gap between them in a matter of microseconds, and their blades clashed in a dazzling explosion of yellow and red.

Sparoe dropped to his knees, and rolled past Bandon, slashing the Sith's leg as he passed. He learned that trick from Jolee, and it never failed to surprise his opponent. Bandon stumbled, but remained standing. Sparoe leapt over him and blocked an attack from the right. Their sabers locked.

"Impressive." Bandon said, not without spite. The Jedi spun his blade, knocking Bandon's loose, and backflipped away. The Sith shot lightning from his fingertips, and Sparoe threw up his blade just in time to absorb the bolts.

"Alright now... this might be cheating." Sparoe said, chuckling.

"You fool! This isn't some game! This is life or death, and a Sith uses any means at their disposal to win!"

"Any means, huh?" Sparoe carefully took one hand off of his lightsaber, and held it up in front of him.

"Oh? Now what are you doing?" Bandon asked, callously.

Sparoe thrust his fingers forth in the same manner as Bandon, but no lightning left his finger tips.

"Huh..." He said, disappointed.

Bandon burst out laughing.

"You fool! You think just anyone can do these things? It takes years of training and the power of the darkside to control electricity at a whim!"

"Electricity? Oh, you mean the whole shooting lightning from your fingers? I wasn't trying to do that."

Bandon heard a drop of water hit the ground behind him. He turned around slowly, and saw one of his dead minion's lightsabers stuck in the glass of the tunnel.

"Oh... no." He turned around quickly, but Sparoe had already opened the door, and was sprinting through it. He spun to look at Bandon, and smirked as the door started to close.

Before it shut all the way, he flicked his wrist, and the lightsaber in the glass turned off. Sparoe watched the feed on a terminal as the water broke the glass, flooding the tunnel.

Bastila was there beside him, tears in her eyes.

"Bas...?"

She shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

Canderous and the others finally entered the room, and Bastila hid her tears.

"What's up?" Carth asked.

"Nothing, some Sith trouble... I took care of it."

"Good," Carth pointed down a dark hallway, "Let's get that Star-Map."

* * *

"Alright guys, I need to focus out here, so keep the channel clean for a while if you can." Sparoe walked laboriously through the thick water, a few feet of insulation and various other protective measures keeping him safe, both from the pressure and the lack of oxygen.

He didn't much like wearing enviormental suits, but when duty called, he answered.

"Sparoe?" Bastila's voice came over the com.

"Yes?" He answered. He had requested silence, but he always had time for her.

"I made a mistake."

"What?" Sparoe trudged nearer and nearer to the Star Map, "When?"

"When..." Silence passed between them for some time, "When I told you I loved you."

Sparoe stopped moving, if only for a second, then continued. He tried to remain calm.

"Why do you say that?"

"Our love... your love, it's a danger to our mission. I can't indulge you any longer."

"What?! Bastila, if this is about Bandon-"

"No, it isn't about Bandon. I was foolish, I gave into temptation. Our love would lead only to the darkside. I can't love you. I... I don't."

Sparoe remained quiet, walking slowly onward.

"Why... why couldn't you tell me this in person?"

"I wouldn't have the strength... we will never again speak of this, Sparoe."

"I can't allow that."

"You must... I've spoken to master Vandar, and arranged a psych evaluation for you on Dantooine."

"A what?"

"I... I told him that you had been showing signs of, of temptation, and that I was worried if you were still fit to continue the mission."

"You can't do this to me, Bastila." Sparoe was trying hard to maintain his composure.

"I must." And with a click, she was gone. Sparoe mindlessly retrieved the Star Map, staring heartlessly at the rather large fish that circled the sub base. He almost wished he had killed it.

**End of Book One.**


	4. Chapter 4

Revan: Lord of Darkness and Scion of light, and the Scepter of Malevolence.

Book Two: A Return to Origins

Chapter One: Inner Feelings

Sparoe sat uncomfortably in a chair, in front of Master Vrook. He shifted underneath his great black cloak, with its pointed collars in place of a hood. He hadn't worn it in sometime, but he felt naked wearing his off-white padawan tunic without it. He got stares from the other padawans, but he cared not. The cloak suited him, and he'd be the first to admit it. Vrook cleared his throat.

"Alright, Sparoe. This is how things are going to happen for the next week. You wil resume the duties of a jedi padawan, farming the grounds, meeting with villagers, and studying hard. Every day, twice a day, we will meet and I will evaluate you by asking certain questions. At the end of the week, you will build another lightsaber, which will accurately reflect your change in mentality. Understood?"

"Yes sir, Master Vrook, sir!"

"And you better knock that off."

"Yes sir... sorry sir."

"How the hell did a wise-ass like you ever become a soldier?"

Sparoe bit down on his lower lip.

"I honestly can't remember."

"Alright," Vrook, the perfect example of posture in his chair, turned on a datapad, "Question number one: who is your closest male friend?"

"Hmm," Sparoe's eyebrow raised, "Canderous Ordo."

"The Mandolorian?"

"Yep." Sparoe nodded.

"Question Two: What is your favorite color?"

"Really?" Sparoe scoffed, "Alright, green."

"And why is that?"

"Um, I dunno. Just always has been."

"Moving on then... Question number three: Who is your biggest enemy?"

"Jedi don't have enemies, Master Vrook."

"You're barely a padawan, and I know that isn't how you really feel."

"Hmm."

"So, tell me." Vrook stared hard at Sparoe.

"Myself... I guess."

* * *

"Sparoe, what are you doing?"

In his black cloak, and black gloves, and black boots, Sparoe was looking down into the grass. He was breathing heavy, and his body was heaving.

"Sparoe?" Bastila asked again.

They had left the safety of the enclave shortly after Sparoe's third daily meeting with Vrook. It had been awkward, and the two hadn't said a word to each other. They were assigned to investigate a disturbance near the Matale grounds, and borrowed a speeder to get there quickly. Bastila drove, and Sparoe slumped into his side of the speeder, like he was shying away from Bastila, and retreating inside himself. She looked over at him several times, and every time he stared into her eyes. Then, she looked away.

They found the spot of the supposed disturbance, almost completely undisturbed.

"Sparoe, what is it?"

"There's a... there's a dead child over here Bastila."

"What?"

"I think she's dead... Oh, god. I think she's dead."

Bastila ran to him quickly, pulling him away from the corpse.

"Sparoe, Sparoe look at me."

"Oh..." Sparoe was convulsing. Bastila pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Shh...shhh." She slowly rubbed the back of his head, and after some time, he was calm again.

* * *

He had never seen a dead child before. In all his years as a soldier, he couldn't recall one moment where he had seen the corpse of anyone younger than 16. He was shaken up. Somehow, that one dead girl had stirred Sparoe's soul more than hundreds of adult bodies. He felt no anger, only crushing sadness, and for some reason: guilt. It was as if all the potential futures of that girl were laid out before him, all the paths she could have taken, all her possible children, lovers, friends, enemies, it was as if they cried out to him, and were suddenly silenced.

"How do you feel about the dead girl?"

"... What?" Sparoe asked, angrily.

"How do you feel," Vrook repeated, "About the dead girl you found in the plains?"

"How do I feel?"

"Yes."

"... Vrook."

"Sparoe, this is important." Vrook stated calmly.

"I feel like... I feel like a part of me has been ripped out."

* * *

That night, Sparoe had dreams of a field of hundreds of dead children. In the dream, he had flashbacks of himself triggering the detonation that killed them all.

He woke up screaming. He knew, that across the hall, Bastila had shared his dream, and he hated himself for making her see it. He cradled himself in sheets soaked with cold sweat.

* * *

Bastila was at his door as soon as the sun came out.

"Hey..."

"Hey..." He stood there, staring at her sleepless face.

"Did you-"

"Yeah... I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault." She offered kindly, but for some reason, it didn't make him feel any better.

"Vrook is waiting for me."

"Yeah, you better go..."

"Yeah." He started walking away, "See you later."

"Wait, Sparoe..."

He turned around quickly.

"Never mind..."

He nodded sadly and headed to the merciless therapy of Master Vrook.

* * *

"I'm going to say words, and you're going to say the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Seems simple enough." Sparoe said, trying to chuckle.

"Red."

"Red." Sparoe said, but even he was annoyed by his smart-aleck-ness. "I'm, sorry."

"Let's try this once again," Vrook said, his voice tinted with understanding, "Hawk."

"Ship."

"Light."

"Tool."

"Hate."

"Opponent."

"Dark."

"Absence."

"Taris."

"Regrets."

"Love."

"Bas-"

"I think that's enough." Vrook said, shutting off his datapad.

"You told me to be honest." Sparoe said, softly.

"I know," Vrook said sternly, "It was my mistake to taunt you with that line of evaluation. Let's just go back to the questions, shall we?"

"Alright."

* * *

Sparoe sat on his cot, the covers thrown askew beneath him. He feared to sleep because he was afraid of what he would dream. The fight against sleep was hardest when one is trying to stay awake, and very quickly he lost, drifting off into a restless sleep.

His first dream wasn't sad, in fact he was glad to experience it. It didn't feel quite like a dream, more like a memory he knew he never had lived through.

He and Bastila were lying in the snow, staring into the sun as the flakes of frozen precipitation drifted slowly onto them. She was younger than she was now, and Sparoe could only assume he was as well. The thick fabric of their cloaks twirled around each other, and their contrasting colors melded in a warming display of amber and copper.

He awoke, and quickly forgot what words they had spoken to each other in the dream, but he couldn't chase away a nagging feeling of lost revelation. He reminded himself to ask Bastila in the morning, and returned to his sleep.

His second dream, was far from comforting.

He awoke in a cold sweat as birdsong pierced the walls of his room.


End file.
